The Art of Forgetting Innocence
by Major Raikov
Summary: An anti-Patriot organization check out the new Big Shell, with shocking revalations...


It was nothing like before. The workers strolled about the facility like normal professionals, inspecting equipment and checking chemical levels. It was like your average government facility: people going about there daily business, stopping form time to time to talk to a colleague before returning to their task. I had also checked the background of the facility manager. No apparent reason to suspect him as a Patriot cell. Obviously, they had succeeded in covering up the Arsenal disaster with ease. It amazed me how America ate up there subtle brainwashing.  
  
"Of course an earthquake had torn up the land near federal hall. Floating fortress? Nothing of the sort; just an interesting rock formation. The boys at the White House are still trying to work out what type it is. How was it moved, you ask? Well, technology sure has changed over the years. We were able to air-lift it out. We of course apologise for the incident and will give you notification when similar trouble arises. If not for President Johnson's resignation and the sheer tenacity of the quake, everybody would've been notified immediately. We apologise for the lack of communication."  
  
I believe it was Revolver Ocelot who'd said, 'the gift of a silver tongue is always the mark of a good officer...and of a liar.' If he'd been describing acting-President Oliver Paige, he would've hit the mark immediately. Paige must know that organizations such as mine can see right through his well constructed, blatant lies. Their confidence bewilders me. They must believe that one day; they will be found out and overthrown. The Wiseman committee? Never have such a group been given such a inaccurate name.  
  
I tuned my codec to Karl's frequency.  
  
"Jack, can you hear me?" I whispered from inside the cubicle.  
  
"Loud and clear Ace," replied Karl from the labs at the base, "how's it going?"  
  
I listened for any noise before continuing. "Good," I said, still with a whisper, "the place is clean. Doesn't look like any secret weapons research is going on here. I only have one more area to check."  
  
"Sounds good Ace," came Karl's voice, "E.T.A?"  
  
I looked at my watch. "Expect my arrival at base in about tow hours. Tell the Queen to the engine running, though. You never know how quickly I might need to get out of here."  
  
"Right. Over and out."  
  
I switched of my codec and opened the door. Looking around, I saw a guy in a dirty lab-coat washing his hands in the sink. He glanced at me, nodding with a smile, before moving towards the hand-dryer. I nodded back and quickly washed my hands, leaving the bathroom as quickly as possible. My disguise was good, but not perfect.  
  
Walking down the hallway, I clutched my clipboard, reading it as if I was on my way to do some research or something. Eventually, having passed what seemed like hundreds of other scientists, I found myself in the parcel room on strut D. After walking down the stairs, I opened the door to the main parcel storage room. And, as usual, somebody was avoiding work by sleeping in the corner. The truth is, people rarely came into this room. It was used to store old or unwanted parcels that couldn't be sent back to their manufacturers. They were kept in this room for a month, just in case they actually were needed. I glanced at the list of stock that had been checked into the room. There was nothing unusual on the list; just some stockpiled chemicals, some useless machinery, the usual crap found in laboratory stock- rooms.  
  
Turning right, I walked through the level five security door. Karl's 'fake' P.A.N. card was working perfectly. I was thinking of commending him, as I opened the trap door and started to clamber down the ladder towards the base of the strut. The open air took me by surprise. It shouldn't have, it was nearly December after all, there was going to be a chill in the air, and I was not in the proper gear to be working out in the cold for long.  
  
I quickly made my way to the bottom of the ladder, almost slipping on the frost that had gathered several times during my descent. Dropping onto the base, I raised myself firmly up and looked around. The sun was setting. It was a breathtaking sight as the golden sphere of heat fell behind the shining horizon, ever so slowly. I lingered, watching the natural wonder for a moment. I felt that I should have an epiphany or some sort of like realisation here. But I couldn't. I just marvelled in the view.  
  
Turning myself away, I took the scope out of my pocket. Scanning the other bases around me, I noticed nothing unusual. It wasn't until I put it away did I notice something. Just beneath my feet was something unbelievably strange: another trapdoor. If the Big Shell plans were to be believed, then there was nothing beneath this trapdoor, as it did not appear on any of the Big Shell plans. I crouched and attempted to pull it open. It didn't budge. It didn't even seem like it was going to open. This was most peculiar. My codec was already tuned to Karl's frequency.  
  
"Jack?" I said.  
  
"What's up Ace?" he replied sleepily.  
  
"I... were you sleeping?"  
  
"What? No? Yes? It doesn't matter. What's up?"  
  
"I found something weird," I said, trying not to sound too concerned. I didn't want to cause any hysteria at the 'office'. "Bring up the 3D shell plans and tell if there is supposed to be a trapdoor at the base to the strut D.  
  
"Right..." I could hear the tapping of keys in the background. A couple of moments later, Karl replied, "there is a trapdoor there, but it doesn't actually open or seem to go anywhere."  
  
Confusion took me. "Why is it here then?"  
  
Karl sounded equally confused. "I don't know. Maybe they couldn't find a use for it."  
  
"Maybe," I said, "or maybe there is something down there the Wiseman committee doesn't want us to see."  
  
Karl laughed at the other end. "Same old Ace, always yearning to unmask the next big conspiracy. You think maybe we could beat Philanthropy this time?"  
  
"I'm serious Karl. Are you sure the plans are correct?"  
  
"Well, seeing as I hacked them directly out of the Pentagon, I would say that they are pretty-much tip-top. It was probably there when the original Big Shell was placed."  
  
"Probably..." I ignored him.  
  
He laughed again. "Come on man, hurry back, we can talk about it in person."  
  
"Alright, Ace out." I switched of my codec.  
  
"Who were you talking to?" came a girl's voice from behind. I spun quickly to see a young lab technician standing behind me. She was about eighteen, but almost a clear foot shorter than me. Her long brown hair flicked up the end, curtaining her round glasses, her blue eyes watching me from behind the thin glass. She clutched a clipboard to her chest.  
  
Scratching the back of my head, I smiled, and replied, "To myself. Sorry, I always talk to myself when I spend so much time alone..."  
  
"What are you doing down here? This area is off-limits to visitors." She seemed angry.  
  
"I'm sorry," I said, looking at my own clipboard, "I got separated from the rest of the inspection team."  
  
"They left fifteen minutes ago." It had become her mission to interrupt everything that I said.  
  
"Once again, I apologise, but there is something in the building plan that does not make sense."  
  
She looked at me indignantly. "And what might that be?" she said blankly.  
  
I smiled again, trying to get a reaction out of her. "This trapdoor. It says on the plans that it goes nowhere."  
  
"Service hatch," she snapped back, "the engineers have to get to the base somehow, don't they?"  
  
Nodding, I started to walk towards the ladder. "You are right of course, miss..." I looked at her badge, "Marissa?"  
  
She tried not to smile. "Somebody actually pronouncing it right for once."  
  
I scratched the back of my head again. Maybe if I keep her sweet, I can get a few more answers, I though. "Well, I..."  
  
"Now, I you don't mind, I have to take today's toxin levels," she interrupted sharply. "It was nice meeting you, Mr..."  
  
"Whyte," I replied, "Dallas Whyte."  
  
"It was nice meeting you, Mr Whyte, now if you'll excuse me..."  
  
"Oh, sorry," I replied, getting closer to the ladder. "I'll be on my way then."  
  
Pushing past me, she knelt by the water side. "Goodbye Mr Whyte," she said, keeping her eyes on what she was doing.  
  
Suddenly my codec went of as I started to climb the ladder. Karl was laughing on the other end.  
  
"My, my, Mr Whyte, aren't we the smooth operator this evening," he said, still chuckling to himself.  
  
Continuing to climb, I ignored his comments, "the trapdoor is a service hatch. I'd say today's inspection was a success."  
  
"Yeah," replied Karl, "so did you get her number?"  
  
"What are you babbling about?"  
  
"You were totally flirting with her," he said, talking like a high-school student. "You've had it with Queen already?"  
  
I grunted angrily. "For one, me and Queen are nothing more than colleagues. You know that, I know that. And two, I wasn't flirting with her. It's not my style to flirt on the job."  
  
"Sure, sure," came Karl's sarcastic reply, "so you won't mind me telling Queen that you have a new fancy-lady?"  
  
"Go right ahead, because it wouldn't affect an already innocent relationship, no matter what you say."  
  
Karl laughed again. He better not be smoking weed, I told myself. "Suit yourself man," he said, "how long before you can get to the car?"  
  
"I'll be out in about fifteen minutes. Expect to see my face at about six thirty."  
  
"Pick up some chicken on the way back..."  
  
He had been smoking... 


End file.
